


Fragile Like Paper

by BlackPencilKitten



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Cutting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Selectively Mute Goro, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackPencilKitten/pseuds/BlackPencilKitten
Summary: Paper can be torn, burned, watered down into nothing, and crumpled up and torn into the trash.Paper can be cut.Paper can also be glued back together, albeit messily, it can be taped, remade into another.It can be healed.





	Fragile Like Paper

**Author's Note:**

> Like the tags say, Suicidal Thoughts and Cutting ahead, do not read if you're suicidal.  
> On another note, enjoy some PAINcakes and PAINting.  
> Another another note, Silent Singular POV writing is really fun!  
> Last note, the Graphic Depictions thing is cause of the Drawing Inflicted Pain, but I'm tagging it just in case.  
> 

A storm had rolled in while he had slept, but today he couldn't have cared less. His umbrella was one known far and wide by his previous fans, and the last thing he needed was to be recognized on his way to see a friend. Pulling his hood closer over his head, he dashed to Yongen-Jaya station, footsteps hitting puddles with small splashes. He weaved his way around the few people out on the streets, ignoring the looks he knew he was getting and whispers about him 'being in such a hurry'.

When he arrived at the station, he pulled his sleeves down and adjusted his gloves, barely wincing as he did so before pulling out a card from his pocket. A name and address were written on it in loopy handwriting, along with what train he needed to board. One short walk through the station later and he found the section for the train, leaning back on a pillar as he waited for it to arrive. His eye twitched as an annoying and dangerous urge to scratch his arms arose, but thankfully the train arrive not long after it, allowing him to ignore them and board once other people got off.

Many say that you're lucky to catch a seat, but on days like these, it's just normal to get one, with what little people were out and about. He chose one close to the entrance and put his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to resist the dangerous urges, instead tapping his foot and staring out the window. The train screeched before it began moving, concrete and tunnel lights flashing before his eyes. The voices around him were just incoherent background noise, the people just NPCs in his mind, the train just a connector between points A and B.

In only a few minutes did the train stop, and he left his seat and the train, the place he was going to already committed to memory. Mindlessly walking up the stairs and onto the streets of the city he's only seen as a word on a card, a place where one of the few non-NPC people he knew resided. He gazed at the grey buildings he walked by, eyes wandering from one painting of street art to the next until they settled on a sign. Without reading it, he entered the building, heading straight for the elevator and pressing the button labeled 5 before sitting down on the floor, closing his eyes as he felt the elevator rise, the corners of his mouth briefly lifting into a smile.

The elevator let out a soft ding and he got to his feet, leaving it and walking through the hallways of the apartment complex, taking a left and reaching the end of the hallway before facing a door, the numbers D20 engraved on a plate beside it. Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice, biting the inside of his cheek to deal with the pain in his wrist. As footsteps neared the door, he put on a forced smile before the door opened.

"Akechi, glad you could make it! Come on inside and make yourself at home." Yusuke said, the familiarity of his soothing voice music to Akechi's ears, a soft piano combating his own quiet violin, which he hasn't used in a few days. He nodded, moving past Yusuke and looking around his room as though everything was new, even after his many trips there.

A small drawing desk and two cushioned chairs were straight ahead against the wall, a vase of white lilies in the opposite corner of a desk lamp. A single, wide window was situated above the desk, letting in what little natural light there was to see. A single twin-sized bed rested a foot or two from the desk, a TV on the opposite wall atop a dresser, a small mini fridge sitting next to said dresser. Some of his paintings hung up around the room, ranging from his friends to abstraction to vent art and to simple flowers, which Akechi knew was from some of his artist's blocks. Finally, a futon rested in the space between the desk and the bed.

Yusuke went over to his desk and sat in one of the chairs, adjusting the desk lamp shining on his sketchbook and grabbing a pencil.

"You can watch me if you want, or draw something yourself. Anything is fine with me."

Akechi nodded to himself, moving over to him and taking the remaining seat. Yusuke tore out a blank sheet of paper from his sketchbook and handed it to him along with a pencil before continuing where he left off on his own drawing. Akechi took the pencil, twirling it between his fingers and taking off his hood before staring at the paper in front of him. The dangerous urge arose again and he quickly started drawing as a necessary distraction.

It started out as a few curved lines for a face, a faked smile and a nose, before it soon gained hair, along with a neck and shoulders. The eye area was scratched out, black lines taking it over as he drew the beginning of what was his old peacoat, lapels soon taking shape. He glanced over at Yusuke's drawing, which appeared to be a sketch of something abstract, or maybe vent art, hell it could be both.

An even more dangerous urge arose, the urge to find something sharp and use it. It clung onto him, made his arms tingle and itch and he hated it, hated how strong the urge always was and how no matter what, it always returned at the most inconvenient of times. He was at his friend's house, he wouldn't give in, no matter how hard it was to resist.

He stared blankly at the picture he had drawn, trying to think of a way to rid himself of the urges, if only temporarily, without hurting himself.

Then, it struck him. He had a canvas right in front of him.

He erases parts of his portrait's hair, letting it turn into sharp edges and look unkempt. Before he knew it, he had drawn tears coming from his portrait's nonexistent eyes, falling from the black void that obscured them. Ovals around him turned into pills, falling from open bottles in the corners of his drawing.

"Goro?"

The tears darkened into blood, falling and almost framing his face as they traced his jaw before falling even more. A bandaid across his nose, small holes on his cheeks that were the exact opposite of freckles.

"Goro."

Huge holes went through his shoulders, the blood pooling at the bottom of the page before it starting reaching out for the pills, hands-or were they mouths?-opening for them to fall into-

"GORO!"

The lead of his pencil snapped, snapping Goro out of the trance he had entered. He couldn't do anything but stare at the broken lead, then at the drawing he had created. So much trauma was put into it, so much emotion that turned itself into self harm, so much of what he hated that he could barely control.

"Akechi, are you okay?" Yusuke asked, setting aside his own pencil and staring at him. Goro remained silent, rolling his pencil around the table and following it with his eyes until it rolled off the edge, where his gaze lingered.

"Akechi, please, talk to me." Yusuke rested his hand on top of Goro's, only to take it away when he heard him hiss quietly. He stared at his gloves, at how his sleeves covered the top of them, before it hit him.

"Akechi...can you remove your gloves?" Goro surprised himself with how fast he removed them, setting them on the base of the desk lamp. The motion felt automated, like he was being controlled, and honestly, he didn't care. His hands were paler than usual, but showed no visible signs of harm. Yusuke rested his hand on Goro's again, watching his eye twitch before his gaze fell to his sleeve, the end covering his wrist.

"May I look?" Goro hesitated before he nodded, Yusuke slowly pulling his sleeve up his arm, eyebrows raising at the scabbed over cuts laying at intervals on his skin. Goro focused on his drawing, at the black scribbles over his eyes, his wish to be invisible, to be blind to the pain, to reality, to his own emotions. Guilt flooded him along with the strong urge to run, to get as far away from here as possible. His fingers twitched in response to the urge.

He moved Yusuke's hand away from him, before slowly taking off his hoodie, shivering as cold air hit bare skin. The cuts on his arm went all the way to his shoulder, some on the side of his torso, ending where his ribcage did. The cuts were mirrored on his other side and arm, and he couldn't stop the tears that started falling, tears of regret, guilt and self-hatred. Surely he was hated now, going to be insulted for being unable to control himself, for being weak.

"I'm not mad at you."

He blinked away a few tears before looking at Yusuke, eyebrows raised every so slightly in confusion.

"I'm not mad, or disappointed, or disgusted at you. I don't blame you for what you did, it feels like you have no choice, doesn't it?"

Goro slowly nodded before turning his gaze to the floor, letting his hair obscure his face. He heard Yusuke leave his chair, and his first thought was that he was being abandoned, left to deal with the consequences of his actions by himself, but seconds later, Yusuke returned with a box of bandaids, opening it and pulling a handful out before starting to put them over the cuts.

"The emotions are overwhelming, aren't they? Born from the years of pain you have suffered through and survived. Because of what happened, it doesn't feel like you can get help, does it?"

He nodded once more, still silent as bandaids were placed over his arm and side before he turned around to let Yusuke do the other, tears making a waterfall down his face. Honestly, it felt like Yusuke could read his mind, as an extension of his ability to read others so well, and he was glad he could, because there was no way he could put his pain into words after such a long time of silence.

"I...I have to admit, I cannot explain how much I care for you, how much I am worried for you and want to make you feel better. However, perhaps I can show you to the doctor in Yongen-Jaya, where Akira got his own meds. Would that be alright?"

"..." Goro tensed up slightly, images of needles appearing in his head, of him screaming at them, squirming to get away-

"Akechi?"

He nodded quickly, ridding himself of the memories and focusing on the sound of the rain outside, as the rain pelted the window endlessly, like a small, echoey version of drums yet magnified tenfold. The sooner he got help, the sooner he could end this habit, the sooner he could find alternatives, start talking again, start hanging out with his friends more instead of shutting himself in his apartment for weeks on end.

"I also propose that we tell one other person about this, for extra support, of course."

The first person that came to his mind was Mishima, the guy who kept the identity of the Phantom Thieves a secret for three-quarters of a year, even longer, the guy who could create the best surprises, the only one Goro trusted with this sensitive information. Yusuke handed him his phone, and he scrolled through his contacts before clicking on Mishima's name and handing it back to him as he started texting. Goro put his hoodie back on before grabbing his drawing, slowly tearing it into pieces and collecting it into a small pile. He bent over to grab his fallen pencil before placing it on top of the pile as Yusuke finished texting, putting his phone away.

"Shall we make our way to the clinic?"

Goro stood up in a silent yes, Yusuke copying him. Before he could make his way to the door, Goro turned him around to face himself, before leaning onto him, resting his head on his chest. Yusuke ran a hand through his hair, wrapping his free arm around his waist, mindful of the placement of the cuts.

"I know this sounds cheesy, and you may have heard it a lot, or maybe not at all, but I think everything is going to be okay." He said, resting his chin on top of Goro's head until Goro pulled away, wiping away his own tears. Yusuke could've sworn that he saw him smile, if only for a split second, before he headed for the door, looking back at him. Yusuke caught up with him as they left the room, closing the door behind him.

Paper can be cut, torn, burned, crumpled up and thrown away, and watered down into nothing.

But it can also be taped together, remade into another one, it can be healed just like it can be damaged. As can anything.


End file.
